Way Back When: Tonight, We Are Young
by Lady Enigmatic
Summary: It is the night of MTV's European Music Awards, 2007. A fan stands in the crowd, watching Tokio Hotel win the Best Inter Act award. One-shot.


**After re-watching** **a video of Tokio Hotel winning Best Inter Act for MTV's EMA's 2007****, and the Tokio Hotel's Aliens third win of MTV's Best Fan Army FTW award, I was inspired to write this one-shot. I really wish I had been a fan back then. **

_Way Back When: Tonight, We Are Young_

Tonight is the night. Excitement dances on the faces of the fans, eager and awaiting for the results of MTV's European Music Awards. Someone is talking on stage about something, but no one is paying attention. Everyone wants to know who the winner is; everyone is waiting to learn which band will claim the award for Best Inter Act. For weeks their lives had been consumed by voting, and only voting. Dedicated fans had voted, and voted, and voted for their favorites—continuously, daily, and devotedly.

There are five bands competing for this award, all with their own hit singles, styles, and fame. Depeche Mode, Fall Out Boy, 30 Seconds To Mars, and My Chemical Romance are likely candidates that have surely received many votes from loyal fans.

But tonight, a lone girl standing amongst the crowd only has eyes for one band, winning this one award —Tokio Hotel.

It really is amazing that they are even here, considering from where they had come from and how relatively new they were to the international market. These boys are a long way from home, and have come far from their beginning in the small, unknown town near Magdeburg, Germany. The singer and the guitarist had met the drummer and the bassist when they were barely teenagers. What followed was a series of demos and gigs, until one day, they sealed a record deal. The tiny band Devilish had disappeared, and they had become Tokio Hotel. Their first single, Monsun, had played on radio stations throughout Germany. Eventually, the song was carried all over Europe, creating fans in places the members had hardly dreamed of going to someday—let alone holding concerts in places such as France and Great Britain.

Needless to say, winning this award would be an enormous achievement for them, not only as recording artists, but as individuals.

Undoubtedly, some people turn their noses up at these German boys. They do not understand—could not understand—why people are giving them so much attention. What makes them so special? What caused their fame to rise so rapidly? No one seems to be able to pinpoint the reason. Fans just simply _know _why, and that is an ample answer.

Some fans, mostly girls, follow them simply based on their image—the androgynous lead singer and the baggy-pants and dreads guitarist were eye-catching, to say the least. Other fan stories are more extreme. Many credit Tokio Hotel as their savior from cutting, depression, and suicide. Posts and comments all over the web relate stories of hopelessness and despair, only to end with the reoccurring, resonating sentiment, "Tokio Hotel saved my life".

To some, there is nothing special about these four boys. But to their fans, they are four unique individuals who want to gain recognition. Perhaps what makes them so different is that they could not, and would never, be accepted by everyone. People try to pinpoint them to a certain genre or type, labeling them with stereotypes and connotes. Critics view them as a "teenie band". Haters identify them as "gay-emo crap". Regardless of the disapproval they face, Tokio Hotel hasn't compromised who they are or what they wanted in order to please the world. Love them or hate them, one had to at least give them some credit.

This girl discovered them by accident—a lovely, domino-affect accident. One song preview led to another, and then another. It wasn't long before she purchased both albums, finding that there wasn't a single song she didn't like. It hadn't taken very much for her to fall in love. She watched interview after interview, spent more money than she should have on concert tickets and posters, and often found herself dreaming of a day when she would meet them. To her, their music was something that she just had to _feel_. The melodies were her asylum, allowing her to escape from whatever hectic reality she faced. In the haunting lyrics, she was free to feel, to be, whatever she wanted.

Her nostalgia is broken as the master of ceremonies introduces the announcer of the winner of the Best Inter Act award. After the British celebrity makes her way to the stage, clips of the nominees flash up on the hanging screens. As each group passes, different groups of fans roar as their favorite band passes by.

The girl would like to think that when clips of the music video for Monsoon are shown, the most noise is made, but she knows that the crowd's response is less than enthusiastic. As for herself, she can scarcely breathe; her vocal cords are hardly capable of producing sound at this point—much less a decent scream. Her excitement has somersaulted into nervousness. Every day, she had cast her votes, along with many other fans all over Europe, in hopes that the band she had dedicated so much of her time towards would win the award they were so deserving of. And now, here she was—and there they were—waiting for the results.

Mere seconds tick by, but it feels more like days. She manages to keep breathing, focusing on inhaling and exhaling. Her heart is beating faster than she thought possible. This was the moment; this was the end. This was it.

"Alright," the announcer says finally. "You want to know who it is?" she asks, teasing the overexcited crowd. They cheer in response.

_Just get it over with already. Tell us who won._ The girl is annoyed by how long this had been drawn out. She had been waiting for most of the evening for this award to be announced. The miniscule moment that follows seems to last an eternity, and she is afraid she is going to die from asphyxiation. Until finally,

"Tokio Hotel!"

For the next few minutes, all she can hear is the sound of screaming. Fans scattered in the crowd, and at home watching, are ecstatic. For a moment, she is afraid her heart has stopped beating, and she lets out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. As the displays flash the announcement in magenta and blue, the faint strains of Monsoon can be heard above the crowd—but nobody is listening.

The crowd has not gone completely wild, the girl observes. A lot of people are applauding politely—not approvingly—and the cheers are relatively quiet as compared to those for the other award winners.

She ignores this. Because after all, they just _won_. Nothing else, for the moment, matters.

The band receives hugs from their producers and crew. Fans in the crowd continue to shout and clap, excited for themselves as well as their favorite band. The girl is unable to do anything. Part of her wants to cheer; part of her wants to cry. But somewhere deep inside, her sanity keeps her silent.

A broad, dopey grin spreads slowly over her face as the announcer's words truly begin to sink in. They had done it. They hadwon.

The band makes their way up onto the stage. In this moment, she finds she cannot view the members of Tokio Hotel as gods or idols. For an instant, she is only able see them for what they are—human. Their faces are animated by surprise and elation.

The band faces the crowd, listening to the cheers as the singer slowly takes the microphone from the announcer. Shaking his head to himself, as if he is unable to believe this is happening to them, he frantically tries to collect his thoughts. He knows—they all know—what this means for them.

It takes a few moments before he is able to form the English phrases circulating in his head into intelligible sentences. He finally speaks, his voice soft and breathless. It isn't too difficult to tell he is struggling to get the upper hand on his emotions—whether the shakiness in his voice is due to adrenaline or unshed tears, she is not able to tell.

"I think you can't imagine what that means to us," he begins, his accent unmistakable. "Two years ago, the most exciting thing was that our fist single released in Germany—Monsun," he smiles, letting out a shaky exhale before continuing. "And now we are here on stage with all these big, international artists," here he pauses, shaking his head again slightly. "And we get this award. That's all because of you—our fans all over Europe." The fans cheer louder still, as if trying out to drown out the singer's final words. "This one goes to you. Thank you so much! We are so proud. Thank you!" he finishes. Each member raises a hand up in recognition of the crowd, gesturing their gratitude and farewell.

Their short moment is over. The singer is sure he's made grammatical errors in his speech, but to the listening fans, his words are flawless. The thank-you was completely genuine, untarnished by routine or formality. Their joy was palpable.

Nothing needs to be explained—they already know. By winning this award, Tokio Hotel has made German history. For the first time ever, a German band has won the Best Inter Act award, competing against and beating large, American competitors. Life will be different after this. And after tonight, there is no going back. They have proven that they are worthy of competing on an international level. That is an accomplishment that can not be diminished.

The girl's prayer for them is that this night will not be the end of their success, but only the beginning of a long and fruitful career. Their journey will not be perfect, or always enjoyable for them—or their loyal fans. But it is her hope that in the end, they will be able to look back and say that it was worth it.

Deep beneath her happiness, she feels cynicism creeping to the surface. People change, she knows, and nothing can stay the same forever. These boys are no exception. They will probably experiment as the years go on, trying out different styles and appearances. They won't always be the young. They won't always have the same contagious energy and optimism. And someday far off, everything will end for them: the awards, the music, the laughter.

But in spite of knowing all this, with all her heart she wishes that they will never lose their excitement. That when they win a hard-earned, fan-supported award as they did tonight, they will still feel that same indescribable happiness. That nothing will become mundane or routine—not the concerts, not the interviews, and most of all, not the music. That their thank-you's and acceptance speeches will stay sincere, not evolve into tedious, rehearsed things that they say only because they are required to. That they will never forget all that had happened in order for them to come this far, and all that they had achieved.

It is then that she realizes that she has never been more glad to have supported anyone in her life. That all the pain she had suffered with the tedious voting and late nights had been worth sacrificing for this single, monumental moment. As she stands and cheers with as much volume as she can muster, she knows that she has never felt such happiness for someone else.

Never in her life had she been more proud.

_End._

**Review, bitte? :)**_  
_


End file.
